The Kellers moved into the bright yellow house down the street on a chilly afternoon in late September. Newlyweds that came here all the way from the East Coast, looking for a fresh start and unwilling to open up about their past.
The man, Rhysand, started working as a high school basketball coach a week later, the kids loving him right away. His wife, Feyre, put up posters all over the neighborhood offering art classes for people of any age. The first class happened soon after, in the small but lovely art studio she'd put together in the house's first floor.
They mostly kept to themselves the first few weeks, and people assumed it was the bliss of newly married life that was the cause. After all, you'd often see them stealing discreet kisses at the grocery store, and they would stroll around the neighborhood every evening, hand in hand.
The reality was a bit more complicated, of course.
Although officially married in their new identities, they hadn't actually gotten married at all. It had been deemed easier to have them share a last name, so they'd gone along with it, but it still felt silly. They'd play at being married, often. Feyre would call him 'Mr Keller', he'd answer with a playful 'Mrs Keller', and they'd laugh at their inside joke. Often, their joke would end with them tearing each other's clothes off.
Rhys still had his mother's engagement ring tucked away in a closet, waiting for the right moment. He firmly intended on marrying Feyre for real, hopefully in the small chapel where his parents had wedded years earlier, back in Velaris. He couldn't imagine not marrying the love of his life in that chapel.
The nights were the hardest, for both of them.
In the mornings, they'd wake up tangled together, Rhys would trail kisses down her neck, Feyre would laugh and nibble at the shell of his ear, her fingers trailing over his skin. In the evenings, they'd go out for a stroll and chat about their day, smiling and waving at their nosy neighbors, before going home to watch a movie.
But at night, life wasn't as peaceful. Feyre would wake up from nightmares of shredded paintings and hands covered in blood. She would sit up, and would often find Rhys already awake, his eyes haunted by the ghosts of what his mission had forced him to do. She would sit in his lap and hold him, he'd caress the bare skin of her back, and they'd try to find peace together.
The first few months were the strangest. It was as if they were waiting, their new life only a dream, waiting for a call that would bring them home. After four months, the call didn't come, and Rhys started to buy succulent plants for the house. Six months in, they'd still heard nothing, and Feyre joined a book club. Slowly, they settled into their new life, growing into new habits, making friends, looking forward to book club meetings and nights out at the bar.
They were still waiting for the call, the hope of getting their old life back never stopped. But after a year, it didn't feel as important. One Sunday morning, Feyre found the engagement ring while cleaning, and in minutes, the both of them were back in bed, the dark blue ring on her finger the only thing either of them were wearing.
They had no idea how long it would be until their phone rang, calling Rhys for a trial against the organization he'd worked so hard to destroy. They didn't know if this call would even mean them going back to Velaris. But they built a home in their new life, making friends and falling in love more and more with each day that went by. Then, on a warm sunny afternoon, as they were both staring down at the positive test sitting on the bathroom tile in front of them, they stopped waiting.
The call would come, they knew it. But they weren't waiting for it anymore, not when their little family was silently growing in Feyre's belly. Maybe they'd get back to Velaris someday, but their life was here, together, with their son joining them soon.
And they couldn't wait to live it.
